


Pick Up Right Where We Left

by lookninjas



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Heavy profanity, Homophobic Language, Threats of Violence, some ablist language, talk of bullying.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sooner or later, someone's gonna stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Up Right Where We Left

**Author's Note:**

> For the record? I _still_ don't like Karofsky. Title of the story comes from [Guitar Hero](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWZu6NWJkHw) by Amanda Palmer.

Sooner or later, someone's gonna stop him.

It hasn't happened yet, although he's been waiting for it for a long time. Waiting for a teacher to step in before he can slam the next kid into the lockers; waiting for Coach Beiste to throw him off the football team for starting shit with Hudson or Puckerman or that wheelchair kid, whatever his name is; waiting for his dad to do something more than shake his head and sigh when he comes home with another shitty report card. Coach Sylvester tried for like a second, but she gave up quick as soon as Hummel transferred to his fancy new school, and Schuester's so fucking useless he actually told him to _channel his energy_ into glee club, like he's just pushing kids around because there's nothing better to do. And Hudson, for all he acts like he's King Shit these days, is so pathetic that it makes Karofsky's skin just crawl looking at him sometimes -- he damn near cried when Azimio and Karofsky tore his letterman's jacket in two, and then he actually offered to take Karofsky straight to Hummel so they could hug and apologize and then sing songs or some shit, which is just fucking retarded. Because Karofsky's not going to apologize to Hummel, and even if he tried, he's not stupid enough to think for a second that Hummel would actually accept it.

Because yeah, Hummel's a fairy, and he dresses weird and acts like a girl like 99% of the time, but Hummel's also been the only person to ever stand up to Karofsky with any kind of consistency. He's the only person with big enough balls to actually make Karofsky _stop_ , even if it was just once or twice and not for very long. Hudson's twice Hummel's size, and he's the big football stud and everything, but Hummel's so obviously the tougher one of the two that it's not even funny, and Hudson's an idiot if he thinks crossing his brother like that could ever end well for either of them. Long story short, going to Dalton to apologize is a stupid fucking idea, and there's no way it could end well for anyone.

But _Dalton_ , just the name of it, knowing it's where Hummel's hiding these days -- he can't get it out of his head. It keeps swirling around. It won't stop.

And, shit, it's not like Karofksy's ever been inclined to try to stop _himself_. If someone doesn't do it for him, well. He's just not gonna stop at all.

The entire time, he's positive that something's going to go wrong, that he won't be allowed to actually go through with this. He's sure his dad won't let him take the car. (He does.) He's positive some teacher will catch him sneaking out after fifth period. (They don't.) He's convinced the cops will pull him over for speeding all the way to Westerville. (It doesn't happen.) By the time he actually walks through the double doors into Hummel's fancy new school, he's starting to feel like this is some huge joke. Like Hudson set him up or something, like it's all been planned in advance. Seriously, he's _in the damn school_ , and not one person has said shit to him, even though it's perfectly fucking obvious that he doesn't belong here. He's a red letterman's jacket in a sea of blue blazers and striped ties, a fucking wolf among sheep, and no one is fucking stopping him. No one is even fucking trying.

He had no idea it would get this far.

He has no idea what he's doing.

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets (the left hand closing tight around something he's been carrying around for a long time, something he can't let go of), and keeps walking, because fuck it, he might as well.

He's only just getting used to the idea that he can keep going like this, unstoppable forever, when a kid steps right in front of him and forces him to jerk to a halt. Something like relief floods through him, making him feel dizzy, and the kid's halfway through his first sentence before Karofsky even starts to register the words. "-- looking for Kurt, right?"

"Yeah," Karofsky says, his left hand clenching around the something in his pocket. He smiles, instinctive, covering up. He's got a sweet smile -- the old ladies at his family's church can't get enough of his smile, they're always fucking talking about it. "Yeah, how did you --"

"Serious? You guys are in here all the time, looking for him." The kid turns and starts heading off -- it takes Karofsky a second to realize that he's supposed to follow him. "It's the glee thing, right? You're from his glee club?"

_... there's no way the glee club's gonna let you join permanently._

"Yeah," Karofsky says again. "Yeah, I'm in glee club."

The kid keeps talking, but Karofsky kind of loses the thread, because he's seriously starting to panic. Someone was supposed to _stop_ him. He wasn't supposed to get this far. And now there's some stupid Dalton kid actually _taking_ him to Hummel, and he has no idea what the fuck he's going to do, because this wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get this far.

"-- in the common room; Wes is pretty uptight about closed rehearsals, but he'll probably be cool, since you're Kurt's friend and all," the kid is saying. He claps Karofsky on the shoulder. "Just through those doors."

Then the kid is gone, leaving Karofsky alone in the hallway. For just a second, he marvels at how fucking stupid these Dalton kids must be. But then he hears singing --

_\--just can't pull myself away--_

\-- coming from behind a set of double doors, and he realizes that he's actually fucking here. Hummel is right behind those doors. All he has to do is keep going, push the doors open, and --

_\--don't want to escape--_

\-- and what? He doesn't even know why he's here. All he knows is that nobody's stopping him.

Fuck it.

He pushes the doors open.

_\--I just can't stop--_

There's a tall, lanky kid dancing in the center of the room -- he freezes up, staring at Karofsky as he walks in. Everyone else breaks off mid-note, mid-word, carefully balanced eight-part harmonies collapsing in on themselves. It takes Karofsky a few seconds to find Hummel's pale, stunned face in the crowd of blue-jacketed boys, and when he does, he smiles. He'd forgotten how good it feels, that first moment where Hummel can't cover up how scared he is. It never lasts long, but that's why Karofsky likes it so much.

(It makes him a little sick, actually, how much he likes it. But not sick enough to stop.)

"This is a closed rehearsal," one of the kids announces, an asian guy with a thick shock of black hair. Karofsky barely pays attention; he's too busy watching the way Hummel's face closes itself, even as his tiny boyfriend crowds close to him, like he _still_ thinks he's big enough to play human shield. "I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave."

"I just wanna talk to Hummel," Karofsky says, and even he doesn't believe that one. _Talk?_ What the hell do they have to talk about?

Hummel takes a deep breath, eyes wide. "I have _nothing_ to say to you," he says. His voice is high and shaky like it always is when he's scared, when Karofsky's gotten to him, but he doesn't flinch or stare at his shoes the way Hudson or Puckerman might. "And I doubt you've got anything to say to me. So you might as well just leave."

"Kurt's right," Hummel's boyfriend says, stepping forward, and he really is that fucking stupid, to think he could take on someone twice his size. Of course, the other glee club kids are closing ranks behind him, and some of them are a lot bigger than Hummel's boyfriend. Hell, some of them are bigger than Karofsky. "It's time for you to go."

And Karofsky still doesn't know what he's doing, or why he's here. If all he wanted was for someone to stop him, it looks like Hummel's boyfriend just volunteered for the job. But that's not enough; he's not... he's not _done_. He pulls the wedding cake topper out of his pocket, shouts "Hummel! Catch!" and throws it above the crowd.

One of the glee club kids ducks behind a couch like someone threw a grenade. The boyfriend charges forward and shoves Karofsky back against the doors with surprising strength, his buddies crowding in as backup. It doesn't matter -- he's seen Hummel's hand stretch up instinctively, snagging the little black and white trinket and pulling it out of the air. He doesn't even _need_ the look on his face when he actually sees what it is.

" _You..._ " Hummel's boyfriend snarls, shaking a little with the force of his anger, too fucking polite to even know the words for what he's thinking. "You..."

"Blaine," the asian guy says, pushing his way through the crowd. He rests one hand on the boyfriend's shoulder, and Karofsky feels the grip on his jacket loosen, although the guy doesn't let go. "That's enough. Come on." Still shaking, the boyfriend finally backs off, letting the asian kid step forward, take charge of the situation. Karofsky doesn't know shit about this guy, but it's obvious he likes to take charge. "I think," the asian kid says, hands jammed in his pockets, staring at Karofsky like he's something foul to be scraped off the bottom of a shoe, "it's time you left. We'll walk you to your car."

It's not a suggestion. If nothing else, at least it took a damn army to finally stop him. And that's something.

"Fine," Karofsky says, and doesn't look in Hummel's direction anymore. He holds his hands up, surrendering. "Fine. I'm going."

" _Wait_." Hummel's voice is still shaky, but it's not scared anymore. It's _pissed_ , and everyone can tell -- even the asian kid turns and stares as Hummel slips through the blue-blazered army, getting right up in Karofsky's face the way he always has. He holds the wedding cake topper out accusingly. "What the hell is this?"

"What the hell does it look like?" Karofsky snaps back, and Hummel's boyfriend lurches forward instinctively; one of the bigger guys has to put a hand to his chest to hold him back. "It's yours. I'm giving it back. Can I go now?"

Hummel just stares at him, all pale-skinned and big-eyed and it's fucking freaky, how _intense_ the kid is sometimes. "You said you wanted to talk," Hummel finally announces, arms folded across his chest, eyes going narrow. "So talk."

"Never said I wanted an audience, though, did I?" Karofsky replies. "I'm not doing this here."

Hummel scoffs at him. "If you think I'm going to spend five seconds alone with _you_ , you're more delusional than I thought." But he's thinking about it; Karofsky can tell. Hell, he's probably been waiting for it, another opportunity to rip into Karofsky, use up all those insults he's been saving. And since they're on Hummel's turf and all, it's not like Karofsky can do shit back to him, and Hummel's sure as hell smart enough to figure that one out. "We'll go out in the hallway," Hummel says, finally. " _Just_ outside the doors. You get five minutes, and when we're done, Wes and the others escort you out and you _never_ come back."

"Kurt," Hummel's boyfriend says, something hurt and frightened in his voice, strong enough to actually make Hummel turn and look at him, just for a second.

"It's all right," Hummel says, quietly, and reaches out to brush his fingers across the back of his boyfriend's hand. Then he looks back at Karofsky, and whatever might have been soft about him before is hard and cold now. "Deal?" he asks.

"Deal," Karofsky says. "If your bodyguards'll let you out of their sight for that long."

Hummel looks over at the asian kid, who doesn't exactly look happy. "Five minutes," he says again, resting one hand on Hummel's shoulder. "And if we hear _anything_ that's not the two of you talking--"

"Thanks," Hummel says, and half-smiles. "I'll call out if I need you."

"We'll be right here," the asian kid tells him, and squeezes Hummel's shoulder. His eyes settle on Karofsky. "Five minutes." He lets Hummel go.

Hummel nods once, jaw set, and then pushes past Karofsky and out the doors without a second glance.

Karofsky stares around the room for a second, all those fancy boys in their little blue jackets, all that confusion and anger and distrust looking back at him. Hummel's boyfriend looks particularly hateful, fists clenched at his sides, and it kind of makes sense, someone like Hummel with someone like that. Then Karofsky realizes what he's thinking, and spins on his heel and out the door before he hates himself even more.

"For the record?" Hummel says, leaning against the wall and studying his nails with every hint of casualness. It's a lot different, him being on Hummel's turf, and it's really starting to get to him. "Your time started when _I_ left the room. Not when you did. So congratulations; that's thirty seconds you'll never get back."

Karofsky snorts, and folds his arms. "Whatever. Hey, you might want to tell your boyfriend back there that it's not smart for little guys like him to try to start shit. Sooner or later, he's gonna get his ass beat, getting in people's faces like that."

Hummel just raises his eyebrow, that _I'm better than you look_ that he's so fucking good at, the one that makes people want to drag him down, throw him in the trash, stuff him face-first into the toilet to prove once and for all where he really stands in the world. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" he asks. "My _boyfriend_? I hope you're not expecting us to giggle and give each other pedicures while we gossip about my _boyfriend_ , because five minutes really isn't long enough for that."

"Pedicures, huh?" Karofsky asks, and it sounds stupid even to him, but he's gotta say something and it's hard to think when Hummel's giving him that look, all pursed lips and bitchy arrogance. It messes with his head, because he fucking knows that Hummel's afraid somewhere deep inside, especially now, but the stupid little fairy just won't give up and he can't _take_ that. "That's what you fags do here, huh? Sing songs and paint each other's toenails?"

He'd expected that word, _fag_ , to have some kind of an impact, and it does, but not the one he's expecting. Hummel doesn't turn red, doesn't turn away quickly like he doesn't want Karofsky to see him crying. He fucking _laughs_. "Well," he says. "It beats what _you_ fags do, right? Pushing people around because you're too _scared_ to --"

"I'm _not_ \--" Karofsky's voice is too loud, and he cuts himself short before he even knows what he was going to say next. Not a fag? Not scared? They're both lies, and they both know it, even if Hummel's the only one who'll actually say it out loud.

"You _are_ ," Hummel replies, and his voice is flat but his eyes are wide, glittering like he's about to cry or something, and his hands are shaking. "You're a pathetic, cowardly, self-loathing _fag_ ; you're just too scared to --"

Karofsky steps in fast, only barely able to stop himself punching Hummel, punching the wall, punching anything, and he doesn't miss the way Hummel looks, quickly, back at the double doors. And maybe he _should_ hit him, or at least say something to make Hummel run back into that choir room, something to make it worthwhile when those Dalton boys push him out into the street again. All he can say, though, is " _Stop_."

"Why?" Hummel asks, looking up at him, and it's not like he isn't terrified, because he fucking is. Hummel's whole body is shaking, and he's scared shitless, but he just keeps _going_. "You're not going to try to make out with me again, are you? Because I'd really prefer it if you just beat the shit of me. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with your disgusting breath right in my --"

" _Stop_ ," Karofsky says again, and it almost sounds like he's begging, which is so humiliating that he wants to smash Hummel against the wall, but he can't quite make himself do it.

Hummel just stares at him, like he knows. Like he's _won_. "You first," he whispers.

There's a long, tight silence, the two of them staring at each other -- Hummel's still shaking, and Karofsky's hands are clenched into fists, but he can't look away first. He _can't_.

He does, though.

Of course he fucking does.

He takes a huge step back and then turns around and stares at the fucking carpet, because deep down, he knows Hummel's right, and he's scared that if looks at him any longer, he'll have to fucking admit to that, and he can't. He can't. The moment he does, it all stops. Everything stops.

And he _can't_ stop.

"Time's up," Hummel says, and Karofsky doesn't look back at him. "I hope you got what you came for."

He can't turn around, but he can imagine it, Hummel straightening his blazer, turning around, reaching out for the doorknob just as Karofsky's throat opens up and forces out one last word. "Wait," he says. And then, "I'm sorry."

Hummel sort-of laughs, sort-of doesn't; it's strained and bitter and faintly pitying in a way that makes Karofsky want to smash his face in, because he still _hates_ Hummel, even right now. "No," he says. "You're not."

But he doesn't open the door right away, doesn't call for his buddies to come save him. Instead, there's the barely-audible sound of Hummel's shoes on Dalton's plush carpet, and then the feeling of Hummel's hand against his, opening up one clenched fist to push something into his hand. He doesn't have to look down to know what it is. "I don't want this anymore," Hummel says. "You can keep it."

It's a whole lot of words to say "Fuck you," with, but by the time Karofsky gets himself together enough to point that out, the double doors are swinging wide and Dalton's fancy little glee club is swarming out, pushing Karofsky out of the school without a one of them ever laying a hand on them. The asian kid is lecturing him the whole time, a bunch of stupid shit about _restraining orders_ and _police_ and _your parents_ and _criminal record_ , but Karofsky tunes him out. He looks for Hummel's boyfriend in the crowd, but the kid's not there. Of course he's not. He's probably crying and singing show tunes with Hummel or some shit, because that's what fags like that do.

_It beats what **you** fags do, right?_

He clutches the cake topper harder than ever, and feels it finally break in his hand.

The Dalton glee club hustles Karofsky out to his car like it's something they've choreographed (hell, for all he knows, maybe they _have_ ), then back away a few feet, letting the asian kid stay in front. Karofsky can't help but think that it's kind of funny, how fucking different this is from McKinley's glee club, from Hudson, who only _thinks_ he's in charge. It must show, because asian kid raises an eyebrow, and he's even better than being superior than Hummel is. "Something funny?" he asks, and man, he's just _itching_ to put Karofsky in his place; it's written all over him.

But it's different out here, without Hummel staring up at him, making it impossible for him to think. It feels better, even if these Dalton kids aren't half as scared of him as they should be. At least they don't look at him like they _know_ him, not the way that Hummel does. "Yeah," Karofsky says, reaching out for his car door. "It's funny that you actually think I _want_ to come back here. This place fucking sucks."

"I'm glad you think so," the asian kid says, obviously unimpressed. "Because I'm honestly not looking forward to having you arrested. But I will, if I --"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Karofsky says. "I'm going. Calm the fuck down."

The asian kid backs up just enough to let Karofsky open his door and climb in. He starts the car, thinks for a second, and then rolls the window down. "Oh, by the way?" he says. "You might want to tell Hummel that his brother's been giving his address out. You know, just in case he gets any more visitors."

He takes a second to enjoy the way the asian kid's face changes, then backs up fast, making those pansy glee boys scatter in order to avoid being run over. He floors it on the way out of the parking lot, chucking the broken wedding cake topper at someone's car as he roars past. It's a direct hit -- he hears the car alarm go off. For a moment, he almost panics. He almost thinks that, after everything, that stupid fucking car alarm is going to bring the cops in, that _this_ is the moment where someone finally stops him.

It's not, of course, and he's already calming down by the time Dalton is out of his rearview mirror. No one's going to stop him.

No one ever has.


End file.
